day. I paused briefly on the first floor, casting a last longing glance at the cool, colorful watches, and headed for the exit. A look at my own trusty bought-on-sale-at-the-grocery-store Timex watch confirmed what I suspected. I had spent so much time in Niketown that I did not have time for a run in the park before I met my friends downtown in Soho for lunch. In the past this would have perplexed me to no end. The idea that I had sacrificed a run to buy running clothes was not very “me,” but today, forsome reason, I was OK with it. Maybe I’ve just mellowed into a less compulsive runner. Then again, maybe not. Even if it got too late to run outside, where there is a treadmill, there is a way.

For four shorts, three shirts, two pairs of socks, and one pair of (on sale) running shoes, I managed to spend $295 of the gift certificate. As the cashier rang up the sale, I marveled at what I was doing. I didn’t feel frivolous, but I felt out of step with the world or my corner of it. [thought, “T am buying things like a normal person.”

So how does the average person afford this? I couldn’t figure it out, and even now I still don’t know. How many pairs of shorts does the average high-mileage runner own? How many does one really need? And how long does one keep them? I know I have at least two pairs that are six or so years old and seem to be in good shape (except maybe in comparison with the ones in my shopping bag). “What is normal?” I wondered to myself.

Still, there was something about having all this new gear that made me look forward to my next run. I feel a bit transformed, and though I know it is arguably just a cosmetic change, if it makes for a positive attitude, the benefits must go beyond the superficial. Seeing me ina pair of new shoes, a friend once remarked, “Are those the shoes that are programmed to run 5:30 pace?” If only it were so.

In the past, in the tradition of inverse snobbery that once—and to a certain degree still does—pervaded distance running, Ieschewed the look of the expensively dressed runner, believing that substance was more important than style. I ran my first national championship 100K wearing a wool sweater and Danskin tights under a pair of soccer shorts, and it never occurred to me that that was unusual. Placing third overall, I felt my choices were justified. My favorite tale of substance over style comes from my running partner, Barbara Remmers, who once ran—and won— the Detroit Marathon in 2:44:56 wearing a white cotton T-shirt on which she had scribbled “BAA” in magic marker because she had forgotten her racing singlet at home.

There is a happy medium somewhere, I’msure. Iread something that Steve Holman wrote not too long ago about runners and keeping up appearances. The gist of it was that we are de facto representatives of our sport and should try to do what we can to make the sport look good—by looking our best (he specifically listed the wearSeptember/October 2002

ing of long underwear for running as a “don’t”). While I feel he has a point—to a point—one of the things that got me to run and kept me running was that all I really needed was a pair of shoes. No equipment, no membership fees, no fancy clothes. When I lived in New York City and ran in Central Park, I used to see aman who ran every morning, rain or shine. I liked seeing him, as I liked seeing all the early morning regulars. Though we kept to ourselves, mostly running our own routes at our own paces, there was an undeniable camaraderie among us. Interestingly, when it was very cold, he wore layers of

cellophane grocery bags on his hands to keep them warm. Besides that, I never noticed anything too out of the ordinary about him. Ifhis clothes were particularly worn, I don’t recall it. I later found out he was homeless. His fortitude made a big impression on me, although I find it difficult to articulate it into some kind of “moral of the story.” I wondered, “Would he be treated well at Niketown if he decided to come in and take a look around?” Come to think of it, would I be if I didn’t have a fast husband who wins gift certificates at races?

Ellen McCurtin is one of America’s premier ultrarunners.

Trip to the Boston Marathon!

Out of the qualifying runners, one male and one female name will be drawn for free airfare, free hotel, and free entrance fees to the Boston Marathon.

Rolling hills and scenic beauty mark the Ozark Mountains which provide a challenging and scenic course

for the Springfield Marathon.

¢ Refreshments, warm up area, locker rooms available at start/finish line at Second Baptist Church

e Aid stations every mile

¢ Spaghetti dinner after race

*BOSTON QUALIFIER

For more information write to:

Springfield Marathon Second Baptist Church 3111. E. Battlefield Rd Springfield, MO 65804

September/October 2002

Dec 7, 2002

Or visit our webpage:

Click on

ON THE ROAD WITH ELLEN MCCURTIN M17

Chicago Turns 25

The LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon Went From Riches to Rags to Riches.

T HE MARATHON had reached its moment of truth. The lakefront course turned northward and I could see the lead runner, a Canadian, silhouetted against the skyscrapers of downtown Chicago. At 22 miles I checked my watch and estimated he had a 30-second lead. Accelerating, I passed him in another mile and a half and didn’t look back. In a dozen tries, it was my first victory in a marathon. The fact that the win came in my hometown made it doubly delicious.

Alas, the year was 1964, well before the current LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon got its start. My victory came in the Windy City Marathon, which might be considered a precursor to the race that will celebrate its 25th anniversary this fall with a field, mind you, limited to 37,500 runners. The race I won attracted, at best, a few dozen, although we were relatively fast. Three other runners finished within five minutes of my winning time (2:35:04) and most of the rest probably broke three hours. But there was no prize money or appearance fee. No Khalid Khannouchi. No Catherine Ndereba. In fact, not a single female ran Windy City since women did not run marathons in that distant and unenlightened era.

No police were out to stop traffic for us, nor did volunteers offer water. No charity runners. No pacing teams. The race was timed with a stopwatch. Our back-and-forth course along the South Side lakefront was run on sidewalks and an abandoned strip of the old Lake Shore Drive to minimize traffic conflict. We probably failed to inform the park district about the race for fear that it would either tell us not to run or charge a fee for our doing so.

The Windy City Marathon remained on the Chicago race calendar for several years and then vanished for lack of a clear purpose. A dozen years passed before the current Chicago Marathon got its start on September 24, 1977, as the